Patrick Jane, meet Lillie Sinclair
by et voila 1312
Summary: A gruesome discovery at a marina leads to strange dreams, and soon Lisbon's behavior slowly starts to change, causing Jane to become concerned. Is it just the macabre nature of the case, or is something else more unbelievable happening? Written for the 100th Anniversary.
1. Prologue

**A/N**-Just a couple of quick notes: first, don't look for this story's case to be a long, detailed, complicated, twisty mystery, because I don't really do those; I just needed a case to jumpstart the actual story. And second, and most important, without giving away _too_ much, _**this**_ _**story is **_**not**_** Jack and Rose. **_

**Disclaimer-**No, Lillie yes.

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The Mentalist

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Patrick Jane, meet Lillie Sinclair

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January 15, 2012

"This is Cho," the agent answered the ringing phone. "Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh," he said, scribbling something on a post-it. "Ok. Got it. Thanks." He hung up, then headed for the kitchenette.

Lisbon was refilling her coffee mug, the hum of office activity droning softly in the background, when Cho appeared in the door to the lounge.

"Boss, we got one," he announced crisply, then turned and headed for the bullpen. Pouting slightly, she set her coffee down, then went to her office to retrieve her jacket.

"What've we got?" she asked once she met him at his desk.

"Triple down at the marina," he said, sliding on his suit jacket. "Couple heading out fishing around five-thirty this morning found the bodies, called local pd." He handed her the post-it.

"Triple, huh?" Her brows rose in intrigue as she glanced at it. "So much for a slow morning. Okay, let's go. We'll take one van; it'll save time and gas." She looked around the room, then at the leather couch. "Where's-"

"Dunno," the Asian man answered. "Haven't seen him all morning."

She pursed her lips in irritation, then shook her head. "Ah, well, you snooze, you lose," she shrugged. "He'll just have to catch up later."

x

As the van pulled up to the Port Lisa Marina, Lisbon scowled when she saw a familiar blue car parked a few feet from the second coroner's van.

"How the…?" she muttered as the four agents piled out of the SUV. Walking to the boat slip where the bodies were laid out, she found she was not at all surprised to find Patrick Jane, down on one knee, hands folded over the other knee, leaning over the bodies, studying them intently. Only the curly blonde top of his head was visible at the moment.

"How'd you get here first? I thought you weren't psychic?" she asked good-naturedly. He looked up to see her smirking, hair shining in the morning sun.

"Oh, hello Lisbon," he said pleasantly, sounding surprised to see her. He looked down at the bodies again, his eyes taking in every detail, before he finally rose to his feet.

"I'm not psychic; no such thing," he recited his adopted mantra, eyes still on the bodies. "I couldn't sleep, so I went for an early drive, ended up here." He paused briefly, then finally lifted his eyes to her.

"The sunrise is really quite lovely from here, Lisbon," he smiled. "A beautiful way to start the day." He lifted his arms to his sides in a gentle stretch and closed his eyes, letting the sun bathe him in warmth.

She smiled softly in amusement as he indulged. "Not so much for these three," she remarked caustically, looking down.

"No," he agreed, and immediately lowered his arms and returned his attention to the case as if flicking a switch. "These unfortunate souls met a watery grave long before the sun came up." He leaned over, propping his hands on his knees. "They didn't drown, though," he remarked.

"You already spoke with the coroner?" She squatted to inspect closer.

"No need; no foam at the mouth," he concluded matter-of-factly. "Also, they're not all bloated and grotesque like you would expect to see in someone who'd inhaled a great deal of water," he commented. She grimaced at the imagery, though she knew he was right. She'd seen her share of drowning victims, accidental _and_ intentional.

"Nope," he continued, "these three froze to death. Quickly too, but still painful and terrifying, I expect."

Her head snapped up. "What makes you think they froze to death?"

"Well, we know they didn't drown, but they've been in the water for at least six hours; they all have 'washer-woman' hands, their deathly pallor has a distinct blue tinge which suggests being exposed to extreme cold very fast, and if you remember Lisbon, there was a cold snap last night; it got down to the low forties, so you know the water had to be freezing. Plus, touch _her_," he instructed, pointing to one of them.

She looked up at him, her lips curling in disgust.

"Oh, come on, Lisbon," he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure as a cop you've touched dead people before. C'mon, just poke her with your finger," he urged.

She did so, hesitantly, and was surprised to find the body still stiff as a board; it should have already come out of rigor.

"A-ha, see! I knew it!" he crowed. "These people froze, sometime in the middle of the night," he concluded and straightened again, quite pleased with himself.

Lisbon rose slowly, not bothering to argue with Jane, but wondering _how_. How _had_ these people ended up in the water? Midnight fishing trip turned tragic? Accident on a party barge? Someone dealing drugs? Were they innocent bystanders at the wrong place and time, or had someone exacted their own brand of justice? She immediately thought of Jane, and his thirst for revenge, and a chill went through her that had nothing to do with the cold mid-morning air.

"Before you start gloating, let's hear what the coroner has to say, 'kay?"

"Whatever," he shrugged in feigned disinterest, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Hey, boss," Cho reappeared.

"What'd the coroner say?"

"Damndest thing. She can't say for sure how, but she thinks they ended up in the water and froze late last night sometime between midnight and three. Because of the cold snap, and because they were pulled out only a couple hours ago, they haven't had time to thaw out yet."

"Mm-hm," Jane hummed in satisfaction. Lisbon pointedly ignored him smugly rocking on his heels.

"Says it'll be a few hours before the M.E. can say for sure," he finished. At her answering nod, Cho headed back to the van.

Lisbon finally looked at Jane, who was looking ahead, away from her, towards the van.

"No gloating," she warned.

"No, no gloating," he agreed easily. She nodded, grateful he was being mature for once, then turned her head as Van Pelt approached.

"Any ID yet?"

Van Pelt shook her head. "Sorry, boss. Not yet."

"Okay," she sighed. "Well, nothing else we can do here. Cho says it'll be a while before we know for sure the cause of death…"

"We know the cause of death, Lisbon," Jane interrupted.

"I said no gloating," she scolded, interrupting him back. He merely held out his hands, still in pockets, flaring his jacket, in a silent 'whatever you say'. "…so we might as well head back. I suddenly need a strong, _hot_ cup of coffee."

She pulled her jacket tighter against the chill, and looked again at the three frozen corpses at her feet. Blue-ish grey. Wrinkled skin covering fingers clenched against the cold. Hair and clothes soaked but covered with a layer of ice crystals. Jane was right: if these people _had_ frozen to death in the marina, or even somewhere further out, it must have been a terrifying, painful, _lonely_ death.

"Boss?" Van Pelt's voice snapped her from her brief reverie.

"Yeah," Lisbon replied, getting to business, joining the two who were a couple paces ahead.

x

As soon as they returned to HQ, Lisbon made a beeline for the kitchen to pour a hot, _fresh_ mug of coffee. Sipping carefully, her eyes fluttered closed in gratitude as the hot liquid warmed her throat, and the invigorating caffeine buzzed along her nerves and through her limbs.

"Hey, Lisbon. Intriguing case, don't you think?"

Lisbon opened her eyes to see Jane going past her to the cabinet.

"No, not really. We deal with dead bodies every day."

"That may be so, my dear, but you can't deny that this one is especially strange. Our illustrious team is even making bets on what actually happened."

"Cho and Rigsby are always betting on something."

"Cho and Rigsby, yes," he acknowledged, sitting down. "But our very own ethical, straight-laced Grace has also been getting in on the action."

He sipped his tea, covertly eyeing her when she didn't say anything. Instead she stood silently leaning against the counter, one slack-covered leg crossed over the other, both hands clutching her mug, green eyes staring vacantly ahead, while her thoughts visibly turned inward.

He watched her carefully, scrutinizing everything, from her stance, to the tightness in her shoulders, to the frown just beginning to scrunch her brows together. She may pretend to have no special interest in their latest case, she may say it was just another body, but he knew better. He could tell there was _something_ about those bodies that was bothering Lisbon. Something niggling at the back of her mind, slowly burrowing its sneaky little way into her consciousness like a worm.

Jane also knew that if he called her on it now, she'd automatically deny it. So he'd have to be patient. Not a problem; he'd get it out of her eventually. Which _could_ be fun. Would require some Jane ingenuity, creativity…perhaps a little backdoor manipulation…

"Yes," he continued, "definitely intriguing if it succeeded in seducing our moral barometer into making wagers on the fate of the frosty trio. Mystifying, even. After all, how often _do_ we investigate frozen people floating in a marina?"

Lisbon blinked, her expression suddenly a painter's blend of surprise, irritation, horror, disgust, and a multitude of other emotions he couldn't quite sort out.

"What's with all the alliterations, Jane?"

He shrugged lightly, taking another warming sip. "No particular reason. It's fun, keeps life from getting dull, stimulates the vocabulary…"

"Are you trying to make me mad?"

He looked surprised. "Of course not, my dear. Why would I do that?"

She just stood there another moment, her jade eyes boring into him, before suddenly straightening, and walking out of the kitchenette.

"I've got work to do," she muttered.

Jane watched her retreating back, her posture tight, her shoulders still bunched, and wondered what was going on in that pretty head. What troubled thoughts were swirling around like a washer on 'spin' inside that great skull of hers? _Had_ the sight of those bodies actually upset her so much? Surely not. Moments like this made him wish he truly _could_ read Lisbon's mind. Oh, sure, ninety-nine percent of the time she was ridiculously easy to read, almost stupefyingly so. Sometimes to the point of becoming boring. But right now, for some reason, she was closed off, shutting herself off to him just like she shut the world out by closing the door and blinds to her office.

She needed a quiet, peaceful, Jane-free moment? Okay, he'd give it to her. He'd let her retreat to her sanctum like a frightened bunny before he once again invaded her space and finagled it out of her. For now, hmmm, his tea was cold, and his cup was nearly empty. Refilled, he headed for his own retreat.

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	2. January 17, 2012

.

_Clear, wide open sky. Bright blinding sun, bathing the day in life. _

_Like back home. A welcome change from perpetual gloom and drizzle. _

_A pang of homesickness. Eagerness to return. A car horn honking in the distance. Funny, sounds a little like a goose. _

_More homesickness. _

_Stopping. The door opening. _

_Wait, backward? That's strange, they haven't opened like that… _

_Looking up. Blinded for a moment, then eyes adjust. _

_Unbelievable. It's huge! No, more than that. It blocks out everything else. _

_Walking toward it. Suddenly feeling very small. _

_Dwarfs everyone, everything. Closer. Is this happening? _

_A deep, shuddery breath. Eyes close. Stepping forward. _

_Swallowed up._

.

_More beautiful light everywhere. _

_Soft, lilting music floating from the walls. Even the walls are beautiful. _

_The new lights…delicate. _

_Soft, plush beneath my feet. _

_Every few feet another smiling face, mirroring mine. _

_Now the floors are dark, shiny. Smooth. _

_Immediately hit by smell of…people, and food. _

_Dozens of people. All gathered here. Talking, laughing, shouting._

_._

_Now all around is darkness._

_Surrounding, enveloping._

_Confusion._

_Streaks of light overhead._

_People running everywhere._

_Pushing. Shoving. Many desperately clinging, reaching._

_Some are terrified._

_Others are still calm._

_Assuming this isn't real._

_Clinging to that. Maybe…oh god…._

x

Lisbon lurched awake, her eyes snapping open. Breathing heavily, she grasped blindly for the bedside lamp, frowning when she saw the rumpled and twisted bedclothes. Squinting against the sudden light, she also noticed that her hand was shaking; she was shaking all over. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she felt a faint sheen of sweat dotting her brow. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to calm her still pounding heart, then reached for her cell phone to check the time: 5:47 AM. Sighing, she pulled the covers back and headed downstairs on shaky legs for some coffee.

Sitting in the pre-dawn darkness, Teresa thought back on just before she'd woken up. It was so strange, she knew the dream had been detailed: bright, sunny blue sky, anticipation of… something, excitement, something _really_ big, and beautiful. And then…fear. She remembered traces of mind-numbing terror to accompany the numbing cold.

But that was all. Even as she sat there, her mind coming inexorably awake from the coffee, the memories of the dream faded just as quickly. Pouring her coffee into a thermos and topping it off, she headed upstairs to shower.

x

Lying on his couch, Jane heard Lisbon's distinctive footsteps approaching the bullpen, only…he noticed right away that they didn't make the usual 'click-clack, 'click-clack' as she walked down the hall. In fact, he realized, it sounded like she was dragging. Odd, even coming in at 6:19 Lisbon's dainty feet never dragged. And why _was_ she in more than an hour-and-a-half before usual? Jane thought of his decision to give her some space before cornering her about her odd behavior before, to confirm his belief that the latest case had anything to do with it, which, he'd decided it did. Having settled on a most satisfying, not to mention foolproof plan, Jane let himself slip back to sleep, having never opened his eyes, unlaced his fingers, or even moved at all.

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